Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 43512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Her brows lift. “He call to give you shit?”
“Actually no.” I drag a hand through my hair. “He said someone named Dean Maddox is going to call me. From a security company in Saint Pierce.”
Delaney’s expression changes—interest and wariness mixing. “Saint Pierce?”
I nod once. “Banks told me to take the call. He said…” My voice catches, and I hate it. “He said it’s about my dad.”
Her eyes widen, and she sits up straighter, blanket sliding down her shoulders.
“Nash…” she whispers.
“I don’t know what it means,” I admit. “I don’t even know if it’s real. But Banks wasn’t… playing.”
Delaney reaches out and takes my hand, threading her fingers through mine like she’s anchoring me to the present so the past can’t drag me under.
“Okay,” she says, steady. “Then we listen.”
We.
The word is so simple, and it hits me like a prayer.
Before I can respond, my phone rings again.
Unknown number.
My stomach drops.
I glance at Delaney. She nods once, calm for both of us.
I answer. “Hawthorne.”
“Mr. Hawthorne,” a voice says—deep, controlled, the kind of voice that doesn’t waste syllables. “Dean Maddox.”
Something in me straightens. Not fear. Not exactly. Recognition.
This is a man who lives in the same world Gray lives in. The one where bad things happen and you don’t get to blink.
“Yeah,” I say. “Banks said you’d call.”
“He did.” Dean’s tone stays even. “First—glad Miss Coleman is safe. I heard about Quarry Road. That could’ve gone differently.”
My jaw clenches. “It didn’t.”
“No.” A beat. “Now, I run Maddox Security out of Saint Pierce. We do executive protection, recovery, missing persons, high-risk transport, personal security—depending on the client and the job. I’m putting together a new unit. Charlie Team.”
I glance at Delaney. She’s watching me like she’s trying not to breathe too loud.
Dean continues. “Banks Hawthorne spoke highly of you. Your background. Your discipline. Your adaptability.”
I almost laugh. “He’s biased.”
“Maybe.” Dean doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m interested in recruiting you, Hawthorne. You’d be a fit.”
A fit.
Like I’m a tool. Like I’m a piece of a machine.
Maybe I am.
“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “My life is here. My family. The ranch situation—”
“Understood,” Dean says. “You don’t have to decide right now.”
I exhale, tension easing a fraction.
Then Dean’s voice shifts—not louder, not sharper, just… heavier. “But I’ll tell you why I’m calling personally,” he says. “And why you might want to hear me out.”
My pulse picks up.
Dean pauses like he’s letting the next words hit clean. “We have reason to believe your father, Billy Hawthorne, is still alive,” he says.
The room tilts.
Delaney’s hand tightens around mine.
My mouth goes dry. “That’s impossible,” I manage.
Dean doesn’t argue. “It’s improbable,” he corrects. “Not impossible.”
My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
“You’re saying this because—what?” I bite out. “Because you found a rumor? Because you want to bait me into your company?”
Dean’s tone stays calm. “I’m saying it because we have data. A pattern. A name. And a location tied to the night he vanished—tied to a series of ‘disappearances’ that aren’t accidents.”
My stomach turns cold.
Delaney whispers my name like she’s trying to keep me in my body. “Nash…”
I squeeze her hand back, hard.
Dean continues, “If Billy Hawthorne is alive, he’s not free. And if he’s not free, he’s in trouble. The kind of trouble that doesn’t wait.”
My throat closes.
“What’s the first mission?” I ask, voice barely steady.
Dean answers like he’s been holding it back for exactly this moment.
“Finding Billy Hawthorne,” he says. “Bringing him home. If we can.”
The words crack something open in me—something I sealed shut the night the deputies told me to go home, the night the creek swallowed my father and gave nothing back.
My whole life has been built around that hole. Around proving myself because he wasn’t there to see it. Around carrying my brothers and my mother and my grief like a rucksack I never take off.
If he’s alive…
If there’s even a chance…
My eyes sting. I blink hard, furious at my own weakness.
Dean’s voice softens—not kind, exactly, but human. “You don’t have to answer tonight,” he says. “But I’ll tell you this: opportunities like this don’t come twice. Not if you want the truth.”
He gives me an address, a time, a contact. A clean path forward, like men like him always do. “Think about it,” he says. “And Hawthorne?”
“Yeah,” I rasp.
“If your father is out there, he’s been surviving without you for a long time.” A beat. “Don’t make him survive without you a second longer than he has to.”
The call ends.
I stare at my phone like it’s a live wire.
Delaney doesn’t speak right away. She just shifts closer and slides her arms around me, forehead pressing against my shoulder like she’s holding me together by force. Finally, she whispers, “Is it real?”
I swallow. “I don’t know.”
Her voice trembles. “But you want it to be.”
I close my eyes.
Yes.
I want it so badly it hurts.